


On Divinity & Cell Divison

by medical_mechanica



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Body Horror, Cloning Jargon, Episode Ardyn Spoilers, Episode Prompto Spoilers, Implied Consentacles, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, The Onset of Dominant Ardyn, They Are Both Terrible People And Deserve Each Other, Toxic Masculinity, Unhealthy Relationships, Verstael Besithia Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medical_mechanica/pseuds/medical_mechanica
Summary: M.E. 723Staring down a deadline after a series of failed experiments, Research Chief Verstael Besithia is on edge. A bout of unexpected news sees to make or break everything he has worked toward.It's a good thing the messenger can't die.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> The 4th Chapter is NSFW.

The wheezing was grating.

Red, irritated nasal cavities, half formed, gaped open and closed in a feeble mimicry of breath as the miserable flesh sat on the cold steel of the lab table, affixed to a series of machines that beeped, vibrated and measured throughout the surgical theater. Over all else, came the gasping passage of air into its collapsing lungs.

If the readings were correct, the ailing wretch was not long for this world. 

It was a hideous sight, a clear mistake in the peptide leveraging, brain and cranium only half formed, flesh falling away to exposed bone. Respiratory system, torso half formed at the ribs, lacking further extremities and a face. A bright overhead light flooded a series of curious hands, reaching and prodding, assistants fluttering about. Behind them stood a disgruntled looking scientist and his failed experiment. A sneer grew over Chief Researcher Besithia’s face as he studied the thing.

As the entire room buzzed about him, alive and vivacious, he and the still thing on the table remained the calm, the eye of the storm. Readings and computations sounded in thuds and scratches that stretched on and on and on and... All accompanied by the infernal wheezing of a dying creature that didn’t even have so much as an ego to sublimate.

It was because he hadn’t been there. Instances of him being needed on the front consistently pulled him away from his work at some of the most crucial moments. At the rate they were working, it would take two years to reach the production numbers that were required of them. It was untenable for him to keep with the pace of study while being so… distracted by battle tactics he was increasingly beginning to consider archaic.

It was practically only by some miracle that they had even managed to refine the cloning process at all. Yes, it had been easy to replicate standard beasts on a smaller scale, enough to feed the research facility and then some. What Verstael was proposing to do was so much greater than they could have anticipated. Even buoyed by the influx of his little discovery a few years back, they were at a loss as to how to expedite the process on a mass scale. It was much harder to sublimate an army if they didn’t have an army of subjects to sublimate.

Once it had been decided they would use the Chief himself as the genetic template for the somatic cell nuclear transfer, the process had gone wildly uneven, but ultimately viable (with nothing that required a report back to the Emperor, of course). After months of trial and error, they had finally managed to produce an adequate number of specimens acceptable for the sublimation process.

Of course, it had been initially unsettling to see versions of his own likeness throughout the compound; a myriad of states of awareness, life and pain flickering in constant rotation. At one point, Besithia had overheard one of his assistants mention how every agonized face on a clone felt like an affront to the Chief directly. Smug satisfaction welled in his chest at the fear the thought instilled in his staff. 

Regardless of their initial success, it was all for **nothing** if they could not maintain the numbers required for mass production.

Even with the funding they had been provided by the Empire, they were already starting to run dangerously low on resources for the timetable given. To make matters worse, the weather had taken an unsettling turn, snow storms erupting harder and faster than they ever had in the mountainous region. Imperial forces had awoken the Glacian, with large swaths of the southern territories overtaken by a deep freeze that grew by the day. Without a successful run, the project would surely be shut down, the war extended indefinitely.

If it had been unsettling to see replicas of the himself about the facility before, then at their current point it had become standard practice. They had failed to replicate their initial success on a broad scale without batches of… defects. Which lead to the unstable mass of flesh on the table before him. 

Odd tufts of blond hair had tried to grow in patches, like crumpled grass in worn dirt, flesh pink and raw where the epidermis had ceased to grow, revealing the shape of a glassy unseeing eye and a delicate bone structure of an attempted sinus cavity. Still, there was a familiarity there that even the newest of interns couldn’t deny, even as the red structures flared, clinging to a short but meaningful life of study, another sacrifice for the greater cause. Surely, whatever became of the wretch would be used to adjust the next sequence of data.  
This knowledge did not assuage the Chief Researcher, however, nor did it take away the bite of failure that gripped onto him as he watched his dilapidated doppelganger slowly die.

With the predicted twitching that suddenly overtook the pitiful form as the last trace of life faded, Verstael snarled in disgust.

It was a disgrace.

The readings all went dead, researchers coming to a slow standstill. Eyes began peaking in his direction, tentatively checking their boss’ deposition as a definitively low growl had begun to emit from his throat.

_“Leave.”_

The low, curt, intonation rung throughout the surgical theater, and as Besithia’s lip twitched, all of the present researchers and assistants knew well enough to empty the room in short order. Finally left alone, he faced the brightly illuminated flesh in the otherwise darkened room. 

Not even alive enough to be considered human, devoid of intelligent thought, no more than a nervous system and electrical impulses. It’s lack of visage, an open hole into the formation of a body, still carried the weight of his compositional imprint, birth marks still appropriately placed. It was one thing to receive the paperwork detailing yet another batch of defective clones, it was another to witness it.

For a moment, it truly did feel like an affront to his being.

 

A moment later the angry scream and clatter of instruments falling to the floor could be heard from the upper lab, scaring a few researchers that had loitered in the halls.

Later, no one would admit to having heard anything.


	2. Part II

Besithia had stalked the halls, oozing bag under arm. A slight rivulet of coagulated blood trailed behind him. He was livid.

Out from the lab, across the compound, all the way to the incinerator, normally pristine armor caked in drying viscera. He was a wraith that wandered the cold halls as he descended to the depths of the research facility. Eccentricity was known to befall the Chief at times, especially as deadlines drew near, spoken about only behind closed doors and hushed whispers, or after Besithia had returned to his stint on the front lines. However, as their current deadline drew near, it had only worsened. Most had the sense to leave their commanding officer be, but the few that had not were all been quickly terminated from their positions.

The Research Chief would see no one that would dare cross his path in such a state.

It was only after he switched on the contraption did he finally breathe a sigh of relief, the vile failure burning away. The odd mix of shame was diluted by some other thing that ate away at his nerves, easing slightly. Verstael sat against the console, defeat soaking into his stature. Crossing his arms, he let his head fall loosely forward, his shoulders slack.

“Holding space for the departed, are we?”

The sudden interruption gave Besithia a start, arms uncrossing and puffing up defensively. He regarded the figure that had appeared by his side. Immediately, he fell at ease.

“Oh, it’s you,” the affection in the blond’s voice was tangible, despite the flat intonation.

It was the only being in the Empire he could stand being interrupted by. A friend who had come to favor unannounced visits.

Chief Besithia regarded Ardyn Izunia, trying to keep from staring. He was a far cry from the pitiful test subject that had haunted the halls of the facility for so many months. Finally, he stood tall, confidently in his own right, ever since he rightfully decided to fulfill his purpose. 

They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Still, it had been nearly two years from the day he had been released from his prison of stone and chains. Then again, what was two years in the face of eternity to a man trapped in darkness for millennia?

When they had last seen each other, the glint in Izunia’s eye was still new.

No, there was something else to his associate’s demeanor, not confidence alone. Amber eyes laid upon him evenly, unshakeningly, Predatorily.

“-- And no, of course not,” he added with a shake of his head, looking away. Izunia had been instrumental when it had come to developing the sublimation process, and it had won him enough leeway to act of his own accord to further their research.

“Are you sure? ‘To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die’, after all,” his associate quipped with a carefree affectation, leaning a casual hand on the control board next to the blond. Verstael scoffed.

“For that, you have to actually be considered ‘alive’,” a gesture to the active incinerator accompanied a deep sigh from the researcher, “And that disgraceful pile of flesh was not.”

The taller figure observed with interest, an ever present smile gracing his lips.

“What is life anyway, beyond a collective hallucinated reality that our individual minds decided to agree upon? To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all,” Ardyn gestured about the room airily.

Verstael arched a brow.

“How poetic.”

Ardyn smiled and gave a slight bow.

“Is that what you’ve been doing? Writing poetry?” Verstael prodded, wry as the smile that crept across his lips. He had hoped Izunia had returned with some sort of find, a breakthrough perhaps, one that would expedite the process of installing a Magitek core into a shell to accompany the speed of production, for example. That had been the last thing they had discussed when they had last saw each other. Well, at least, one of the things.

“As sure as you have been busy coming to grips with your limited lifespan, my dear Besithia.”

Verstael’s smile soured, turning to face the shadowed figure beside him. An old wound split open anew. 

After his initial testing on Izunia had ended, he had endlessly questioned the man on immortality through deammonification. Immortality, it seemed, was a condition achievable through a simulated absorption of miasma conducted through tightly controlled osmosis into a living body. 

Regardless, Izunia had been reluctant to provide him with such information.

“I’ve told you, Ardyn, that’s not why we ultimately decided to use my DNA for the cloning process,” he bit back. It was just as if their last conversation had never ended. Verstael huffed in a growing defense. Izunia only shrugged nonchalantly. Incensed, the blond continued, “How could I possibly ask such a thing from anyone else? I gladly submit my very existence to the Empire.”

“Far be it from me to argue with such genius,” Came the timely retort, the sting behind it throwing the entire day back in Verstael’s face. Bristling, he glared up at his associate. It occurred to him why he had been so relieved when Izunia had departed last. As much as he might indeed be the only individual who Besithia could even remotely consider a friend, he was also the only individual who knew how to get under his skin as efficiently. Fortunately, he knew how to counter that. Versatel fished out a pair of glasses, turning to the paperwork of his dead test subject.

“Well, Izunia, there are several things I must attend to, so unless you have something of use to share with me, I must be going.”

Straightening his paperwork, he looked up to see Ardyn again leaning on the control panel, holding his heart as if wounded. Pushing himself up, he sauntered a step toward the scientist.

“Are you really so busy? And here, I have come all this way with news from the Emperor.” Ardyn spoke lavishly, with emphasis on ‘emperor’.

Verstael’s blood ran cold, but only scoffed again. Never before had the creature he had discovered been allowed an audience with Ideolas. Not without him.

“The Emperor now?”

Ardyn only shot him an enigmatic smile in return. Verstael took off his glasses, looking at back at him questioningly. It was impossible not to see how the news frayed his nerves, placing the papers back down absently. Word from the Emperor could have several meanings. News from the front. A request from the Emperor to update some of the existing Magitek armor.

They could be shut down.

“Well?” He was on edge, running a gloved hand through his hair. Blond strands shed as he did, and he briefly wondered if all the stress he had been under was making him begin to lose his hair. In the depths of his mind, he made a note to tweak the genetics for the newer models.

Izunia continued to smile at him for a moment longer, obviously relishing in his anticipation.

“You will be given full, unlimited, backing by the Empire.” 

“I would be here full time…” Verstael’s shock could not be understated, jaw falling slack as his brows raised. With a quick cough, it passed, and he straightened before his companion.

“If, and only if, we can supply the designated number of Magitek Troopers for a command that will defeat the Glacian within the month.”

Besithia’s eyelid twitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are four parts now!


	3. Part III

“But that’s so soon. The process needed to reach the required numbers is far from complete.” The eerie image of a face too much like Besithia’s own, twitching and choking on its own tongue sprang to mind.

“I explained to the Emperor that your work here was of far more value than anything you could accomplish out on the battlefield. … Along with the dutiful aid of The Infernian and myself, of course.” As Ardyn spoke, Verstael’s ear took joy in picking up the new modern nuances in his speech, the scientist’s favorite side effect as he absorbed more memories.

Needless to say, it would improve the facility’s productivity tenfold if Verstael were able to dedicate all of his time and attention to accomplishing their goals. He had petitioned the Emperor enough times for as much, but was never met with any sort of definitive answer. Now, with a word from the Chief’s new demigod, the Emperor was finally acquiescing. A few hundred ideas flooded his mind, potential now endless. Excitedly, the scientist grabbed his companion by the elbows, met with the same odd scent of blood and smoke that had followed him from out of that tomb.

“We could open another facility. We could invest in a new laboratory, house more test subjects.”

“That is if we are able to provide the numbers, mind you.”

“Tch, I would have them by now if my team wasn’t so useless without me,” Verstael rolled his eyes.

“Which was exactly my point to the Emperor.”

At which point, a blond brow furrowed, head tilting in question.

“And what exactly did you say to him?”

Ardyn shrugged innocently.

“I only showed him your progress logs for the past several months.”

Verstael grew pale, paler than was usual. He looked up at him, wide eyed, coming to grip Izunia’s shoulders hard.

“You did _what_?”

“Obviously your work suffers every instance you are sent away. I only provided the numbers to support that.”

“You went through my personal logs without my authorization,” The words spilled out of his mouth, betrayal palatable. Izunia’s hands went to his own, plucking them off of his arms to hold them in reassurance.

“Only for the good of our work.”

Verstael Besithia felt the ground slip from under him, his only anchor the hands holding his own. Exposed, he felt fleeting control pass from his grasp, overwhelmed by the vastness of failure that refused to fade. In actuality, he was staring wide eyed up at Izunia, still as if he had been petrified.

They hadn’t been performing even remotely close to their quota, even when Besithia was present. If Iedolas had any sense to him after seeing those reports, they should have been shut down. Even still, they weren’t and it had all been due to a few well crafted words from the same ancient and forgotten man he pulled out from a tomb not so long ago. Who had very much gone behind his back and risked his life’s work to achieve this goal.

Straightening, a skeptical look crossed Besithia’s face.

“And what did he offer you, for all this?”

Another maddening shrug from his companion.

“Me? I asked for nothing…” Ardyn began graciously, earnestly even, “However, should we succeed, I will be made Chancellor.” He finished, with all of the emphasis of an aside.

Verstael started, hands dropping from Ardyn’s.

“He’s going to make you Chancellor? You?”

Another smug smile, and it drove Besithia nuts.

“Apparently, Emperor Ideolas was also convinced that I was the best individual for the job.”

Izunia, to be made Chancellor, who had but only recently been exposed to Niflheim and it’s strange problems and politics. Who had been sitting alone in a dark prison for two millennia. Who, again, went behind his back.

“But, none of that will be a concern if the numbers are not met.” Izunia chided again, a broad stroke the wrong way up the Research Chief’s back. 

“None of that is the matter! The matter is that this is my project. Mine. You stole my personal files, Ardyn. You showed half a year of inexcusable work to the Emperor, and you could have _ruined me_ ,” Verstael’s voice lowered progressively, rushed, panic laced in this tone.

“What if it didn’t work?! He could have us shut down. You didn’t even bother to tell me!” The scientist smacked Izunia’s chest with the back of his hand. Fire present, but no strength behind it. His companion didn’t move, silent in response. Lungs heaved heavily; Besithia was distraught, pacing away several steps. For something so important to be decided without his awareness made him sick, and sent him into a heady fugue state when mixed with the ultimate anxiety that had been snipping away at him all day. No amount of fire could melt away the shame that tinged his thoughts. 

Still, Izunia smiled.

“I wouldn’t have thought to do so unless I had the utmost confidence in your abilities. After all, if it weren’t for your tireless work, I wouldn’t be here.”

Besithia sighed through a sneer, peering back over. Izunia watched on, smile fading slightly. As before, their gazes sharp.

A tense silence stretched on over several long moments. Level amber meeting an irritated glare. The light of the incinerator switched off.

“Correct,” Besithia hissed, taking a step slowly, “I rescued you from that decrepit pit the Lucians damned you to,” He held up a finger to count and continued, still approaching, ridgid in his fury. “I brought you here to seek your revenge, I’ve elevated you to your deserved freedom and status, I gave you your life back.” 

Stopping before Ardyn, defiant blue eyes torn into the other. Nostrils flared.

“And yet, you dare steal my work?” Verstael seethed. Amused, Ardyn smiled calmly.

“My dear, this keeps up and I may the only work of yours that lasts.”

Research Chief Verstael Besithia landed a punch square on the stubbled jaw of his most prized discovery, turning Ardyn’s chin just slightly. A second, and he took a step back, neatly dodging, only to have another fly at his head. Quickly, he caught it mid swing. Verstael pulled back, but found his hand trapped. Izunia’s smug smile had changed to one of mild annoyance.

It was in that moment the scientist realized exactly how Izunia’s earlier confidence had struck him. For the first time since their meeting, the creature better known as ‘Adagium’ had finally passed on from idle test subject or willing participant. Now, he was even something else. _More_. Deservedly so, and wanting to work with him. Verstael gaped, suddenly fascinated, finding his wrist hoisted upward just high enough to keep his heels from the floor. It took effort not to want to pull out their old equipment and ask for a quick exam.

“Are you done?” Ardyn questioned. Letting go, Besithia fell back on his heels, dazedly looking through a disheveled lock of hair that had fallen from place. Awkwardly, the scientist opened his mouth to speak, but found nothing that felt appropriate in that moment. Ardyn looked on, expectantly.

“... I don’t have time for this,” Verstael finally got out, holding his wrist absently before pivoting sharply back to collect his paperwork. His companion slipped back into a casual nonchalant demeanor, giving a gentle shrug.

Besithia didn’t stop to see the theatrical bow Izunia gave him as he rushed his way out of the room.


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes to this.

Afterward, four days of strenuous testing commenced within the compound. Production ramped up to full capacity. For every one defective clone, there were 10 viable. The Research Chief would hardly sleep the entire duration of testing, spearheading the shift to mass production. He was able to finalize how to best balance their resources for tank management, oversee the production testing, and perfect tank embryogenesis. In a very short amount of time, they were making great strides. 

If there was nothing else, his presence alone increased their rate of success. However, their deadline loomed ever closer, and, predictably, just as they began to make progress that dared to give Verstael the vaguest hope that they would, in fact, make their deadline, they hit a snag. After whispers spread that a hapless technician had been left outside in the tundra by an agitated Besithia after another failed test, it became clear that they were again at an impasse.

While they had streamlined the genetic duplication process, having ironed out the previously unknown variants in the cloning process at the mass production level, there was a concern. After several failed attempts, they could not manage to sublimate a selection of the mass produced viable clones into the prototype Magitek Core. Deammonification? Yes, of course. They were left with herds of Deamons, which were, like the unfortunate technician, left to wander the frozen mountainside. That was hardly new, an old trick shown to capture his attention some years ago. The miasma harvested however, lacked the residual ‘oomph’ that would power the Core.

 

Worthless imps expanded from the billowing spill of miasma as the physical body collapsed in on itself before gasping away, Verstael staring tiredly from behind the thick glass observation wall. Thirteen batches had failed. 

Too tired to scream, too flummoxed to fight, Besithia gestured to cut. 

Testing would be put on hold.

 

Having taken to intermittent napping on a desk chair between renderings and readings, being able to finally retreat to his own quarters was a bit of a revelation. Similar to where he dined, it was furnished with imports and decor from Tenebrae, with the addition of the finest view that the (mostly underground) compound had to offer; faraway snowy mountaintops were viewable from a long and narrow blast window opposite his bed. In short order, he discarded his armor; gloves, cape, bandolier, boots, and heavy lined mail jacket were piled onto a chaise, leaving him in the worn scarlet linen robe laid underneath it all. He had been wearing them for days, and while designed for status, they were hardly comfortable.

Shaking the stiffness out of his hair into an unruly mess, Verstael peered out of the window. The distant sun was about to set on the horizon, icy landscape a tinted orange hue. While its’ beams were no where close to hitting his location, the expansive blue before him wanted to lift away the weight upon his shoulders. Besithia inhaled deeply. He should be recording a log entry.

Instead, he twisted to fall back onto his bed.

Sleep came instantaneously, a weighted fog that swept him away to a place of pleasant nothingness. Or at least, it had for a short while. Only a few hours later, and a knock sounded upon his door. 

Research Chief Besithia started, sitting upright. The room was dark. Quickly bringing up the lights from a console at his bedside, he jumped up, half expecting it to be some crass intern expecting to report to him directly. Too angry to dress, he opened the door with a look that would burn through the hide of a Catoblepas.

It was Izunia.

“I hope that I am not interrupting you at this hour,” A level expression graced his features, brows slightly lifted in some slight apology. The researcher would swear that amber eyes lingered on his hair, surely unkempt from sleep. It did nothing for his mood.

Besithia let out a disdainful sigh, terse.

“Didn’t you mean to disappear before I opened the door, only to surprise me in my room once it closed?”

“Do you think me so duplicitous, dear friend?”

Besithia stared at him hard, blinking a few times.

“Yes,” Dark, nasal, and flat came the reply.

Ardyn straightened, smiling sincerely, the thought clearly having occurred to him.

“Only more reason for me to formally request a brief moment of your time, if you can spare it.”

Tired blue eyes blinked wearily, considering the strange way their last conversation had ended.

“Of course,” With a nod, he stepped aside for his associate to enter the room.

After the door had closed, Izunia moved to lean at the edge of an expansive ornate oak desk littered with binders and charts in the corner of the room opposite the chaise. Besithia moved to sit in the velvet padded chair stationed beside him. If it weren’t for the distrust that still sat in the depths of his gut, it would be just as it once had, after the Fall of the Infernian. Late nights of Verstael sharing his theories with Ardyn, catching him up to speed on current Magitek theory based on old Solheimian models, with the researcher asking question after endless question of his discovery about life back then, magic, and society. Briefly in the back of his mind, he wished no time had passed.

“What is the matter?” Besithia questioned, apprehension still underlying his tone.

It became relatively oblivious to Verstael that he was loath to be at odds with the only being on their Star worth a damn. Not that he would admit to it. Ardyn only smiled kindly back, in the way that the scientist had only seen him do while unconscious before waking up to bouts of panicked screaming. Those had been some of the more interesting readings from their earlier days.

His associate cleared his throat, bringing him back to the moment.

“When you first found me, I know I was slow to rally to your cause. You opened my eyes to the possibilities before me, and for that, I am eternally grateful,” Izunia began, gingerly stepping down to his knees before the scientist. A quizzical look crossed Besithia’s face as his hand was grasped. “You were the only one to understand me before I could even understand myself,” Izunia’s other hand went to his chest, “My dearest Besithia, I owe you my very life.”

Again, Verstael blinked hard at the overdramatized display, squinting.

“What are you doing?” Another flat response came from the scientist, while the vaguest sense of distaste tinged his features. Ardyn lifted a questioning brow, the other noting too late how close they were sitting together.

“Why, is this not what you wanted?” His tone playful, Verstael bristled once more, slipping his hand out of his companion’s as Ardyn moved to casually lean elbows on Verstael’s knees. The man had to crouch to be on his level when seated.

“Of course not,” The faintest tint rose to freckled cheeks under a disgruntled expression, and he tried to spin the chair away. Grinning, the looming figure only followed, stepping up to lean in, hands gripping the armrests on either side of the scientist.

“What, then?” Came the low purr, chin jutting questioningly, their eyes locked. Verstael wanted desperately to answer. Some odd feeling in his chest coiled up, taking his breath along with it. 

Before loosing all of his good sense, Besithia pulled himself together, thinking on the years of notes sitting on the desk just behind him. 

“Is this just another trick, a ploy, for you to distract me?” He asked haughtily.

With a grunt, he shoved Izunia back. Managing to only just ward him away from the chair, he playfully bounced back, leaning back in and coming to grip the researcher’s knees with a spirited smile. 

“Why, is this _distracting_?”

Incensed, Verstael launched at Ardyn, throwing his entire weight at the towering form in a block, catching broad shoulders as they tumbled from the chair. The next series of events would transpire so quickly, for years afterward Bestithia would wonder how it occurred.

Grabbing for Izunia’s neck, he found his hands yanked away at the wrists, arms pulled out, leaving him awkwardly balanced on Izunia’s ribs. Crashing to the side, long red hair was suddenly very much in his face, stubble scratching his cheek, and the amber gaze boring into his so very close as they rolled toward the center of the room. Struggling to regain the upper hand, with an ankle hooked around a thigh, he attempted to tumble back on top. Briefly, it worked, and he wrenched his way back up, wrists now tightly held to Izunia’s chest, trying to yank away. It worked. 

Or so, he had thought, the knowing smile on his associate’s face gone, as was the rest of him. Just as the first trickle of victory thought to strike Verstael, he found the floor coming up on him with a quickness. The impact was hard, cheek meeting metal plating just out reach from an area rug. A weight at his back pinned him to the floor by the wrists and thighs. Ardyn.

He had been so _fast_ , more than anticipated. The smallest acknowledgement of the futility of the situation had continued to prickle at the back of his mind, but it was overcome by the sudden newness of it all, the excitement for an progressively unfolding experiment. It was not as if his better instincts weren’t at play, telling him how dangerous a predicament he had placed himself in, but they were little more than a pesky nuisance in the context of the greater picture.

“Get off of me,” The first words to exit Besithia’s mouth were muffled, but as flat and irritated as ever.

“I daresay I can not.”

“Let me go,” he tried again, pulling testingly. No give. Focusing on a distant wrinkle in the rug beside him, he tried to peer at the shadowy figure in his periphery.

“Ardyn, this is foolishness.” 

“What is foolish is the idea that you have any sort of control in this situation,” Tone low and sincere, there was something about his companion’s turn in demeanor, some deathly chill, that finally encroached upon the jaded researcher’s calm.

“Come now, get off of me,” Verstael repeated. A stretch of silence followed, and with another tug, the grunt that left the blond’s mouth came out more of a strange whimper.

“You know, you have so often come to me with questions regarding immortality… Now is as good a time as any to provide you with the answers you seek,” Ardyn began, ignoring the way it made his companion squirm. “You wished to know how I can produce the plague, and I explained. You requested I demonstrate the process of Deammonification, and I did. Over and over again. Ever more curious, you requested to see me in an undying state, clinging to existence even as I wished for nothing else but for it to end…” A hand shoved the researcher’s skull against the ground, holding it firm. 

“You wanted to know what it ‘felt like’.”

Besithia shuddered, and the storage space number of where he had left the chains that bound the creature sprang to mind. Just as Verstael could plead, he was pulled up by his mess of blond hair, a fist quickly coming to grasp around his throat, held in place on his knees. Airway constricted, he tried to pry at the grip, even tuck his chin down to break the contact, but it held solid. Ardyn’s breath caressed the blond stubble along Verstael’s jaw, and a chill ran down his spine. For the first time, fear set in.

“I could show you right now,” The offer was a lethal purr into his ear.

In that moment, Verstael Besithia wanted a thousand different things. For one, he wanted to breathe, and continue breathing. Another, conflicting desire, was the morbid curiosity of what it did feel like to die, the lack of oxygen already beginning to play tricks on his brain. Regardless, what was clear, indicated by a certain physiological response, was that he did, in fact, _want_.

His companion seemed not to notice, or care, continuing on.

“My friend, if you are so interested in living forever, I could just end you here, absorb your precious memories, and continue on in your stead. ‘To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die’ after all,” Izunia stated with the same casual amusement he had the other day at the incinerator.

The thought clearly struck a chord within the researcher, who gasped, returning to tug at the hand around his throat as it gave a slow squeeze. Legs kicked, and the blond twitched as he could feel the his color begin to change.

“Ardyn--” Verstael grumbled out, clearly meaning to beg. Somehow, shameful desire ached between his legs. For several eternal moments, Besithia thought he would die.

“-- But no. I would never.” 

The grip around his throat suddenly slackened, heavy gasps falling in the otherwise silent room.

“You are far too valuable, and I could hardly hope to match your tenacious intelligence,” The man’s cadence was different from before, less staged, dropping the ostentatious formality. Verstael coughed, grip slipping away from his neck entirely. Falling to sit haphazardly on his knees, hair hopelessly askew, chest heaving, and more than semi-erect, the normally impeccably polished researcher looked a mess. When the shadow of a man swooped in to kneel before him, blue eyes went wide, body still. Izunia just smiled kindly through long red hair, eyes warm, as if seeing an old friend. Gently, he came to grip Verstael’s chin, titling it up so that their gazes could meet. He was himself bewildered, panic awash with desire. 

“Were it not for you, this would all be for nought,” Izunia continued, leaning down and brushing away a stray lock of blond hair, eyes more human in that moment than the researcher had ever before seen.

“I need you,” Ardyn whispered sincerely.

Verstael Besithia gaped up in amazement at the force of nature he had unleashed upon the world.

Within a breath, he closed the distance between them, pulling at the collar of the white lab coat and angrily pressing their lips together. Again, the scent of blood mixed with dampened firewood filled his nostrils.

An overwhelming feeling of weightlessness swept Verstael away, thankfully, finally, as arms greedily scooped him up. All of the earlier rage had built up to desire, a hand coming to grip already tousled blond hair tightly as the scientist wrapped an arm around his companion's broad shoulders, mouths violently mashed against one another, an extension of their fight. Frustratedly, Verstael bit Ardyn’s lower lip hard as his head was was yanked back, the man bringing enough attention to the pale flesh of his neck to leave a welt. With a gasp, he waved the redhead away fussily. Verstael tried to launch a counterattack, pulling on the man’s ponytail vindictively. It was effective, pulling the man’s head away with a jerk. With a cheerful laugh, Ardyn only grinned at his companion, petting his blond hair affectionately. It threw the researcher for a loop, the normally cold void in his chest filled with an uncharacteristic warmth.

Slowly, Verstael laughed along, finding the very nature of the exchange absurd, before cheekily tucking his head into the crook of Izunia’s neck and viciously biting down, returning the welt. The ancient man yelped, before letting out another laugh, picking the researcher up from the ground and throwing him back onto the bed. It didn’t take much for the red linen robe to fall to the floor, followed by the hurried removal of the ill-fitted lab coat and trousers. Pale hands wandered over oft examined scars of old, still so amazingly smooth despite the worn tissue. It was only as Izunia loomed over the disheveled blond, the both of them bare and exposed, did he finally give pause. 

“I must find a way to complete the sublimation process,” The words were out of Besithia’s mouth before he could help it, staring up at his companion from his position sprawled out on the bed. For what it was worth, Ardyn nodded in agreement, still poised above him.

“That you will,” A tender hand was brought to Besithia’s jaw. He could already feel the bruising on his neck, and the ache made its way directly to his desire. Resisting the urge to swoon like an idiot, Verstael plucked the hand off of his face, mind already calculating the last set of data he had been presented with.

“If I fail to find a method to control and expedite the nucleic breakdown in the host bodies during the harvesting process, we’ll lose everything,” Blue eyes shone brightly, already far away, back in his lab. Izunia smiled bemusedly in reply, letting the scientist ramble, bringing a palm to run over his companion’s length, still firm in hand. Before waiting, he moved to pump gently. That did the trick, blue eyes rolling back as a moan worked its way out from the scientist, bringing him back to the moment. Arching his back upward, Verstael dazedly blinked up at Ardyn.

“Perhaps it would be best to rest, and come at this anew in the morning,” The being calmly stated, not ceasing his moment.

“But… everything I’ve been working toward, my entire life dedicated to the-- ah,” The Research Chief fell back into bliss, sighing as his companion’s pace quickened.

“Yes yes, to the cause. For the Empire. I’ve heard it all before,” Ardyn quipped tiredly as Verstael writhed in ecstasy, clutching the sheets around him. Only managing out a breathless ‘Ardyn’, the form above him smiled gleefully. Shifting to sit between the scientist’s legs, their eyes locked, a smirk meeting expectant desire. Lining up together, Verstael’s chest heaved in anticipation.

“As long as it is within my power, I will ensure that you acquire everything you rightfully deserve,” Came the simple statement, spoken sweetly to Verstael. Something inside of his chest welled up and spilled over, and he did finally swoon, body melting into the other’s touch.

It was the last clear thought in his head as he felt himself open up to the cold and slick sensation of Adagium sliding up inside of him. The Research Chief tried to suppress the maddening acknowledgement that this was yes, in fact, what he had truly wanted.

 

-

 

The next morning saw the two men leave from Besithia’s quarters early, the Chief with full enthusiasm. As it would be told to the researched team, they had reviewed data strains well into the night, about to give up, when Besithia had reached a breakthrough. Testing began again immediately to produce instantaneous results. The Magitek Troopers would be outfitted with Cores, fully operational, produced at a mass scale.

As it would later be told to Emperor Iedolas, staring at the right sequence of notes scattered about the floor lead the Chief to a revelation. As they were having trouble keeping the sublimated ego of the genetic duplicates intact, they had to go about it a different way. By directly sublimating the adult living tissue, they skipped out on the most crucial step.

Behavioral conditioning.

 

Within the month, the Glacian would indeed fall.

 

Not long after, the two men would come to stand before the Emperor as Izunia was made Chancellor, with all of Zegnautus Keep present to watch. The ceremony was immense, with all of the pomp normally reserved for only the grandest of war heroes.All eyes were upon them, marches were held in their honor. Izunia looked astounding, red hair now cropped, form appropriately layered from the sun’s unforgiving rays with a tailor made suit. For the first time since they had met, he truly looked like himself. 

Proudly peering over at his companion, Besithia considered how he actually came to his genius resolution. He recalled that night, the tangled sheets around limbs, the way his heart pounded in his chest, the thrill of the way they both sat teetered on the edge, the presence inside of him throbbing. Most of all, he recalled the power coursing through him as his grip tightened on Ardyn’s shoulders before they both died just a little, and the repeated phrase that fell between his gasping moans, leaving the veritable god inside of him nodding helplessly as they clung to one another.

“Mine.”

 

As the hall broke out into a loud, resounding cheer, Chancellor Ardyn Izunia turned and graciously bowed, hat in hand, broad smile across his lips, all too glad to accept an adoring public. Upon catching his companion’s gaze, he grinned. 

Verstael Besithia smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as a way to relieve the stress I'm feeling about my own upcoming deadline, so haaa...
> 
> So yes! Honestly this was the scenario stuck in my head from the time they announced the Episode Ardyn trailer, and I waited until it came out to be sure it was accurate. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did having it stuck in my head for a few months!


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